A Thief Shaped Puzzle Box
by Tsuki-Fusen
Summary: Brynjolf reflects on the puzzle that is his silent Guild Master, all the while trying to avoid her. Until the tables flip and now he's the one chasing her, trying to make amends and finally understand the mysterious woman.
1. Reflection

**Author's Note: **This is a short, silly little thing I thought up as a raced through the Thief Guild quest line for the hundredth time. Most of it's told from Brynjolf's perspective but there is a bit of time framing, where Brynjolf remembers things, this is told between the breaks. The second chapter bounces back and forth between the Dragonborn's POV and Brynjolf's.

\- A Thief Shaped Puzzle Box

The Guild Master had always been somewhat of an enigma to Brynjolf and the rest of the guild for that matter. With a bemused expression he watched the Ragged Flagon. The woman in question currently playing a hand of cards with Mallory as he started to recall all the small things he learned about her over the months that lead up to her claiming that title.

She'd waltz into Riften, wearing some faded leather armor with naught but a pair of daggers on her side and hood covering her face. Nocturnal only knew why, but he'd had a good feeling about her and took a leap of faith. That one moment of lunacy paid off in dividends. With the ease of a practiced thief she framed Brand-Shei and slipped into the Ragged Flagon. It was then he first noticed, she hadn't spoken a word. She merely nodded or shook her head and he still hadn't seen her face.

Over the course of the next few jobs he noticed a few things; she was either a relatively short Nord or a Breton. She just didn't have the swagger of an Imperial. She was quiet, not just verbally but the woman was born to be a thief. She took to the new armor like a beggar to gold, keeping it in fine condition and even upgrading her weapons. Now she permanently carried a bow and quiver, her daggers were a pair of short swords. How she managed to carry all that and still be as soundless as Death, he wasn't sure he would ever know. The next thing he noticed, she did not trust Mercer. It was there in the stiffness of her spine, the slant of her body as if ready for an attack. She was much more relaxed when he wasn't around.

The other Guild members had started a game, 'unmask' the new blood. Thus far the betting pool are rather large and no one had managed to pull her hood off. If he didn't know better he'd think she had enchanted the blasted thing.

The Goldenglow job he was sure she wouldn't come back from, Vex had barely made it back, there was just no way some padfoot was going to. In a turn of events no one predicted, she did. Not only did she return, but she burned down just the right amount of beehouses, brought back the paperwork and even found a rare artifact Delvin had been sniffing around for. No one doubted her after that, except that she disappeared for weeks. Mercer started grousing about her being scared off, running off with a perfectly good set of the guild's armor.

Rumors had started to circulate of a 'Dragonborn' surfacing, of dragons attacking the countryside and the Thalmor generally mucking things up. When she showed back up, slipping into the Flagon late one night. She turned in a pile of side work for Delvin and Vex, sold a sack full of goods to Tonila and then slipped into the Warrens with a wave. A quick check with the two others told him, she had taken several side jobs before she left last time, which would explain her extended absence. Moments after she slipped into the Warrens Thalmor had shown up, back then no one had pieced it together.

When she next returned, she lingered for a while. Doing some side jobs and helping Mercer out, however her tension around the man was nearly palpable at this point. Then they both left, only Mercer returned. His heart shattered when the other thief told them she was dead. Except, for a dead woman she'd shown up a few weeks later with yet another woman no one thought to see again.

The three of them, met at Nocturnal's shrine while Karliah opened the passage he remembered studying her. Her hair had grown so long that a braid of it now fell outside of her hood, revealing it's rich red color. In that moment he learned she was a red-head, another piece of the puzzle. When they were given the armor of the Nightingales he learned something else, she was definitely a nord. She'd pulled off her armor with her back to him, he'd seen the scars and fading bruises but her lithe form was still that of a Nord woman, not Breton. As she pulled the hood over her head she'd glanced at him, raising a perfectly sculpted brow and revealing twin pools of burning silver. Then it was gone, under the dark hood of the Nightingale.

Their trip to Irkngthand was rather underwhelming, once inside though he watched as with brutal efficiency she disabled dwarven traps. He remembered asking her how she knew so much about them, she'd merely shrugged at the time. Even Karliah had made an off hand comment about her silence then. He remembered the fight with Mercer with startling clarity, it was then he saw her use the first bit of magic. She'd cast several spells with rapid succession, after running out of arrows she started summoning arrows. So it was then he learned she was clearly a battle-mage, on top of a thief.

After their escape, she'd handed both of the Eyes over to him and left him and Karliah, presumably to go to the Twilight Sepulcher. He'd wanted to go with her, but had far too many plans to be able to, though he'd wished Karliah had. So the two of them journeyed back to the Guild, while wishing the talented young woman all the best.

He remembered in misery the weeks that dragged on. He, Vex, Karliah and Delvin had all decided she had earned the right to be called Guild Master. After all it was her efforts with side jobs that had restored the Flagon, it was her efforts that had tracked Mercer, and now they hoped it would be her efforts that returned Nocturnal's favor to them.

Once more rumors started circulating, of the Dragonborn defeating Alduin and saving Skyrim. With the dragons supposedly defeated the civil war had kicked up in earnest. He remembered hearing of the Imperials resounding defeat at the hands of Ulfric and his Dragonborn compatriot. A week later, she sauntered into the Cistern, to a resounding applause. She was wearing the Nightingale set of armor, even when they named her Guild Master.

Now as he watched her, he wondered on her disappearances, the alignment with rumors of the Dragonborn and if they were one in the same. She never spoke, he'd only seen her face once.. Leaning against the bartop in the Flagon he watched her silently. She'd been approaching him lately but not wanting to be subject to the silent game of figuring out what her staring meant he'd brushed her off time and again. He felt a little guilty about it, it's started out honest enough, as honest as any thief got. He had been busy. Then he'd turned it into a game to see if she would actually speak. Somehow the game had turned into avoidance. It was cruel and he felt all the more rotten for it but he couldn't get himself to stop. He'd realized he was in love with the silent puzzle that was their Guild Master.

Tonight he was drinking in hopes of washing his gutlessness away, however she'd yet to approach him. In fact, she'd actively avoided him. Was she returning his poison to him? If so he'd say she was doing a magnificent job of making him feel less than dirt. As she rose from her card game, having thoroughly stroused the older thief he lifted his mug to her in greeting. He could feel those mercurial eyes staring at him from under her hood, she gave him the barest of nods then left.

Three weeks lumbered by, he'd asked Vex and Delvin if she'd taken more side jobs, she hadn't, he'd asked Karliah if she'd been to Nightingale Hall, she hadn't. Where the devil was she? He'd even stopped by Honeyside to see if she was there. She wasn't, but there had been a note, addressed to him.

_Brynjolf, _

_I'm headed to Solstheim. I imagine by the time you actually get your knickers together and hunt this note down I'll be back. However on the off-chance I enter Nocturnal's Embrace early, keep the house._

_-Sigrid Stormblade_

So he learned several new things about the Guild Master then; her full name, that her handwriting was rather flowing and almost feminine, and that she was sarcastic as Vex. Her name however came with a two-fold illumination, Stormblade was the moniker of Ulfric's Dragonborn companion. Their Guild Master was the Dragonborn. With that final piece of the puzzle slipping into place he began to understand the mysterious woman he'd fallen in love with. Her random disappearances were always aligned with the resurgence of rumors about the Dragonborn because she was off fighting bloody dragons.

"But why Solstheim?" Tucking the note in his many pockets he slipped back down to the Ratways, time to do some digging and chase down their wayward Guild Master.


	2. Solution

**Author's Note: **This is a short, silly little thing I thought up as a raced through the Thief Guild quest line for the hundredth time. Most of it's told from Brynjolf's perspective but there is a bit of time framing, where Brynjolf remembers things, this is told between the breaks. The second chapter bounces back and forth between the Dragonborn's POV and Brynjolf's.

\- A Thief Shaped Puzzle Box

Boots barely kicked up ash and dirt as she made her way over to the forge, the sun was setting over the water. She was tired, exhausted and her dagger was broken. Resting against the pillar by the blacksmith, she waited for him to cool the blade he was working on. He greeted her with a raised brow. "Guild Master, kill Miraak then?"

She jerked her head in what she hoped was a nod, she'd replaced most of her Nightingale armor, with a light Stalhrim set. After all fighting Miraak hadn't required a lot of sneaking and mostly being able to survive. Only her hood had made the journey, she'd thought she might need the bit of Nocturnal's luck to see her through. Handing the blacksmith the bits of her dagger she watched him make a face. "You heading up to rest?" She nodded her head again.

"I'll have you something when you show up again." Reaching into her pack she handed over a large chunk of Stalhrim ore for him, before he could say anything she walked off. Heading to the House she'd gotten here in town. Collapsing in her bed with nary a thought to do much else.

The next few days were spent recovering from the arduous fight, replacing her gear or upgrading it. Still she lingered in this ash covered town. She didn't really want to go back to the mainland yet, to the Guild and red-headed Seconds who refused to talk to her. Her sword swung around landing hard against the practice dummy. She'd been attracted to Brynjolf from the moment he called her 'lass'. Never in all her travels had she heard anyone with his accent, it did sinful things to her insides. She dreamed of hearing him whisper wicked things to her under the cover of night. She'd tried to approach him several times, but he'd brushed her off. It'd hurt. He'd gotten distant since she became Guild Master. Did her lofty title meant he no longer wanted to be her friend? Or, as the dark voice in the back of her head said, had he passed on the responsibilities he didn't want and no longer needed to keep her happy?

The dummy's head rolled mockingly on the floor from where her cut it off. She scowled down at it, it wasn't like she wanted to be mute. But ever since absorbing a dragon's soul she found even speaking could have disastrous results. Sure she didn't fling people across the room, but much like the Grey Beards her voice had simply become too powerful to use. Stabbing the straw dummy with her sword she flopped down against the wall staring around at the dark home. She was being foolish, she had duties not just to the Guild but Ulfric as well. Closing her eyes against the onslaught of emotion that particular thought brought. She was well aware that several prominent figures wanted to see her marry Ulfric. Imagine, the High King who conquered the land with the Voice and the Queen who was Dragonborn, Slayer of Alduin!

Huffing at her own mockery she stood, time to bathe, pack and face her fears. She'd just gotten dressed when she heard the sounds of her front door opening, a frown instantly maring her face. Glover had a key, encase of emergencies but she couldn't imagine him ever actually using it. Slipping into an alcove along the wall she conjured a dagger into her hands. Listening to the almost non-existent footsteps coming down the stairs. Who would break into her house? Had to be more Morag Tong agents, twisting the hilt of the Oblivion dagger in her hand she waited on bated breath for the figure to finish skulking down the stairs.

She watched the figure pass, narrowing her eyes in the dark and mentally cursing herself for not illuminating her home more. It was just one, in dark armor and clearly a male. He was bulkier than more dark elves. Still without much thought she slipped behind him and brought the dagger up to his neck. To her surprise instead of attacking he rose his hands in the air.

"All right lass, I suppose I deserve that for sneakin' into your house."

Her mouth went dry, she knew that voice, that Void cursed voice. Jumping back from him, she banished the dagger watching Brynjolf turn around to face her. A soft whisper cast a ball of light into the air. Exposing his rugged appearance, a feast for her starving gaze. His forest green eyes flickering over her in as much surprise as she appraised him with. She was only in a loose tunic, revealing her legs and arms for all the world to see. He was dressed in Guild armor, with a sword on his hip.

"Listen lass I came here to get you-"

A snarl was barely kept back, but still a word ripped it's way through her throat. "_What_?" That one word seemed to have stolen all the rest out of her fellow Nord's mouth. He stared at her mouth slightly agape, her eyes narrowed on him, watching him snap his mouth shut like a bear trap.

"You can talk!"

Rolling her eyes she brushed past him, heading towards the back of the house, subsequently her bedroom but also where she kept all her mead. She had a feeling she would need it to deal with this particular house guest.

"Don't roll your eyes at me lass! No one has ever heard you speak before! Hell, there is a betting pool on whether you are missing your tongue or not-"

Slamming the mead down she glared at him, the Nord wisely stopped that peculiar bit of monologue. With a sigh she turned to face him, crossing her arms under her bosom, waiting on the man to regain the sense she knew he had.

Brynjolf sighed dragging calloused fingers through his already mused red hair. "Look lass, I came to get you, to bring you home. Back to the Guild and.. back to me." He watched her closely, as she took up a clearly defensive stance. He still couldn't believe she spoke, or rather growled at him. It had sounded very much like he expected a dragon to sound like, perhaps that was why she didn't speak often?

"_.. To you?_" These words were softer, barely a whisper and yet he could feel the power coming off them. All at once he understood why she never spoke. If just two whispered words felt like the ocean breeze on his face, how would anyone be able to withstand more? Sighing a bit, something he seemed to be doing a lot since he arrived on this blasted island, he looked over the young woman. It was almost surreal to see her like this. Her visage completely exposed to his eyes. Her own eyes argent and just as bright as he remembered. This time however he noticed a scar running faintly under her left eye, which he absently wondered if she'd always had or had gotten it since that night in Nightingale Hall.

Her long copper hair was hanging in loose curls around her shoulders, he hadn't known it was curly as the only other time he saw it it was tightly woven together. Like so many things about her, he was quickly learning to set aside all things he thought he knew. "Yes lass to me. Look I know I was being difficult.. But I, was coming to terms with things and it just got out of hand."

She shut her eyes and seemed to be practicing how to breathe; she didn't move, didn't open her eyes but she also wasn't shouting him across the room or drawing more daggers on him, so he'd count his blessings. When she finally opened her eyes he was taken back by the sheer level of pain with those expressive orbs.

"_I wanted to tell you.. Everything. But every time I tried.. you pushed me away. Now you come here to say you what? You want me back? You'll have to do better than that._" The words were barely a whisper but he felt them down to his core. The sorrow laced with the words were more piercing than any arrow and cut him deeper than any blade.

"Lass I'm sorry- I.. " He rubbed his face, "Evergloam why is this so difficult!" Giving up on trying to express himself verbally he chose to risk life and limb to show her what he meant. Walking across the space between them he seized the back of her neck, his fingers brushing briefly through her fiery hair and yanked her up. Bringing their lips together in a glorious collision. They stayed locked together for a moment before he heard another word, one he was sure he didn't know.

"_Fus!_" He found himself stumbling back, nearly sprawled out across the floor. Staring at her, completely startled.

"Did you just Shout at me? For kissing you?" The woman had the decency to look slightly embarrassed, a warm flush deepening her tan cheeks. "Shadows woman what would you do if I said I loved you?"

"_Kiss you back_."

He laughed at that, because it was the only reasonable response to this ridiculous mess he found himself in. In love with the enigma that was their Guild Master. The puzzle of the Dragonborn and her inability to even pretend to be a normal person. He grinned fondly at her as she helped him up off the floor, he supposed given how good she was at everything else, being just as bad as he was at expressing herself wasn't such a horrible thing. This time when he reached for her, she met him half way and this time the kiss didn't end with one of them being shouted across the room.


End file.
